Red Fire
by cmar
Summary: PRTF: Wes and Eric have gone from bitter enemies to partners. But do their feelings go beyond friendship? Trapped and in danger, they remember the past and try to confront the present... Slash. Complete. Epilogue added.
1. The Dream

Wes and Eric belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Any others you don't recognize are mine. 

Rated R : Strong and descriptive but not explicit sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence.

This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this.

Obviously what the world needs is a good Wes/Eric slash - and the idea settled into my head and refuses to leave until I write it, so here goes. My first and perhaps only slash story. Please let me know what you think.

Red Fire

* * *

The Dream

* * *

He dreamed of Jen, at first. Of kissing her, the way he never had in real life. Of her body in his arms, the soft cloud of her brown hair, her voice murmuring love in his ear. The clothes between them vanishing magically, her silky skin under his hands... and suddenly the dream shifted, became darker, they were in a large space, the ceiling high over them, light shining dimly through a giant clock face, falling over their naked bodies... and the face raised to his was square and handsome, short black hair, black almond eyes looking into his, glazed with passion... the strong arms around him, the hands touching him, the hard body pressed to his, were most definitely male... 

Wes Collins woke, heart hammering, guilt struggling with arousal. He took a few deep breaths, waiting for the dream to fade, and glanced at the clock. Almost time to get up, anyway. He could get to work early for once. He shook his head, dismissing the images of the night, locking them away, denying them. It was only a dream, only the replay of an unwanted memory, one he never allowed into his conscious thoughts. It didn't have to mean anything.

* * *

The day started well enough. A nice day, sunny and mild, only a few clouds skidding across the sky, a hint of the rainstorm to come. Wes arrived at Bio-Lab early, a minor accomplishment, but it added to his good mood as he strode through the doors and down the hallway toward his office, exchanging smiles and nods with the people he passed. 

It was a special day, after all, even if it made no real difference in any practical way. His one-year anniversary as co-commander of the Silver Guardians. A year since he had started at this job. Just a little over a year now since Jen, Trip, Lucas, and Katie had left. Briefly he wondered what they were doing… what Jen was doing, separated from him by so much time, then pushed the thought away. A year. He still missed her sometimes, still thought about her. But he had accepted reality. She was never coming back, and his life would go on without her.

The sight of a pile of paperwork waiting on his desk dampened his spirits a bit. He was standing with his back to the door, shuffling through it, when a voice startled him.

"Morning."

He turned, smiling after a moment at the man standing in his doorway. A man wearing the same uniform as his, about his height and build, but with an Asian cast to his dark eyes and black-haired where Wes was blond and blue-eyed. "Morning, Eric," he said in greeting. "What's up?"

"Nothing special." Eric leaned against the side of the door, folding his arms. "Today's your anniversary, isn't it?"

"A year since I started, yeah."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks." Wes turned back to his desk. "Sometimes I'm surprised I made it this far."

"I'm not. You have the ability, and you've worked hard."

Wes turned to look at him again in surprise, seeing only a deliberately blank look. A compliment from Eric was unusual and unexpected. And it felt good, he realized. With another smile he said, "Thanks!" and added rather awkwardly, "I owe a lot of it to you."

And the Eric he was used to was back as he grinned and said, "Bet your ass, rich boy."

Wes matched his grin and picked up the stack of paper from his desk. "Tell me the truth, you've been pushing all the paperwork onto me, haven't you?"

"Rank has its privileges."

"But we're supposed to be equals."

"Yeah. But there's plenty of bureaucratic bullshit for both of us." He straightened. "Speaking of which, I'd better go. See ya."

"See ya, Eric," Wes said, already looking through his work again. But after his partner was gone, he looked up again thoughtfully. A year of working together, commanding the Silver Guardians for his father's company. He smiled faintly. In less than two years, they had gone from bitter enemies to friends. Perhaps even close friends, although there was always a thin but impenetrable line of reserve and discomfort between them. Certainly they trusted each other and had found they worked well together, each offering qualities the other lacked.

Things could have been different, very different. If they hadn't been able to forget the past -- all the things that had happened between them -- even the one that haunted his darkest dreams... It had started in school, that had been where they met. Wes hadn't quite known what to make of him, what to think of him, although he knew better now. He had tried to be nice. Had probably been Eric's only friend. Or had tried to be his friend. That was the beginning of Eric's hostility... But before that, he remembered reluctantly, it had been the beginning of the other side of their relationship...

* * *

"Eric, what are you doing hanging around here? There's a party going on in Brian Hunnicut's room. I'm on my way there now." 

Eric looked up from the book balanced across his knees. He was sitting in one of the common rooms in the dormitory they both lived in, one of the smaller rooms the boys often used for studying when their dorm rooms were too crowded or noisy. "I'm not going," he said after a moment.

"Why not? You can't have that much studying to do."

"Have to keep up my grades. If I don't, I'll lose my scholarship."

Wes watched as he dropped his eyes to his book again. Eric was different from almost all of the boys at the prep school they attended. Unlike them -- and unlike Wes -- he didn't come from a wealthy family or an upper-class background. He didn't know the same people, hadn't been to the same places. Sometimes he seemed not to speak the same language. He lacked the easy manners most of them had, the self-confidence. Wes had heard rumors about him, about his parents, about -- other things. But Eric had a few things to be proud of too, things the other boys resented. His grades. And the martial arts he excelled in, only Wes himself even coming close.

"You already have almost straight A's," Wes said now. "Come on, you need to have some fun sometime. Relax a little."

"Well… I don't think Brian would want me there. Or most of the other kids."

"That's stupid." But it wasn't. Eric wasn't popular, for various reasons, including his standoffishness and the temper that occasionally flared violently. "Look, I'm inviting you. So come on." He sat on the couch next to Eric and held out his hand. "Give me the book."

"Wes, I really need to study…"

"Gimme the book." Wes grabbed at it, pulling it toward him.

"Hey, cut it out!" Eric pulled back, smiling.

"Come on, Eric, please?" Wes reached out with his other hand, closing it around Eric's wrist. He pulled on both wrist and book, as Eric lost his balance and swayed closer.

For a startled moment their faces were only inches apart, their eyes locked, Wes still pulling but Eric no longer pulling back, and they were leaning closer together, slowly, everything seeming bright and sharp in one electrifying instant. Eric's eyes flickered down to Wes's lips, his face softened…

"Hey, Wes, where the hell are you?" They both jumped back, looking up as two of Wes's friends came into view in the doorway.

"I'll be there in a sec." Wes jumped up, started for them, and turned back after a step. "Sure you won't come?" he asked, as Eric looked up at him, his expression almost blank, except for something dark that Wes didn't want to identify.

"Sure. See ya."

"Okay." Wes listened to his friends talking as they walked, answered and laughed, hiding his thoughts. What had happened back there? Sure, there were some rumors about Eric, that he didn't go for girls -- but he had put it down to the general dislike for him. Was it true? Or was he only imagining it? And another thought, one he quickly shoved down where he wouldn't have to face it, wouldn't have to answer it. _When was I going to stop him?_

* * *

Eric had been cool to him after that, and Wes had begun to avoid him, out of embarrassment and discomfort. They had drifted apart, Eric soon starting to treat Wes with the same withdrawn resentment he showed to the other boys. Then he had dropped out before graduation, after informing anyone willing to listen that he was tired of wasting his time in a school for 'lazy rich kids'. 

Wes had never expected to see him again, had simply filed his memory away, forgotten it, except for the odd weak moment when he saw the image of dark eyes, the disturbing times when he saw an attractive man and felt a flash of the same stirring that had almost taken him over that night, those brief and guilty moments when he allowed himself to wonder what might have happened if they hadn't been interrupted.

But they _had_ met again, the day Eric showed up in Silver Hills, after Wes had met Jen and the others and become a Ranger. Wes understood him better now, could almost understand why he had acted the way he had. So much hostility then. So much resentment. _If I had known the truth, how would I have reacted?_ Wes wondered. Perhaps the same…

* * *

"Look! They have blasters!" Katie exclaimed. 

Wes glanced at her, then back at the battle taking place before them. He understood her surprise. Ordinary guns wouldn't work against the cyclobots, the robot footsoldiers Ransik, Frax, and Nadira were using in their attack on Silver Hills in 2001. Somehow the navy-blue uniformed troops they were watching had armed themselves with blasters, the same type that the cyclobots were armed with -- and the same that Wes and his partners used. Weapons that had been developed years in the future, the time that Jen and her teammates had come from in pursuit of the group of escaped criminals.

"How did they get the technology?" Trip murmured.

Jen only stared, her jaw clenching. Wes knew exactly what she was thinking. Their whole purpose in being there was to protect the timeline from interference. Those blasters were evidence that they were failing.

Nadira was screaming angrily at the line of men facing her. The pink-haired mutant had emerged from a trendy-looking boutique clutching an armful of stolen clothes and jewelry, and found them waiting for her. A man in a red beret identified them as the 'Silver Guardians', and ordered her and her robots to put down their weapons and surrender. The armed cyclobots failed to obey, and Nadira arrogantly started forward. True to his word, the man in the beret gave the command to fire. Moments later several robots were twitching and sparking on the ground.

Nadira screamed a final threat, and vanished in a sparkle of transporter light. The Silver Guardians ran forward to check on the remains of the ruined cyclobots. The boutique owner ran out to thank them. The red-bereted commander ordered them back to the SUV's they had arrived in. And it was over. Or so it seemed.

One dark-uniformed figure stopped on his way to the cars, hesitated, and turned. To Wes's surprise, he walked up to the five of them, his handsome face hard and blank behind the sunglasses they all wore. Wes didn't even recognize him until he took them off.

A tingle of surprise and shock ran down his spine, widening his eyes. "Eric!" he exclaimed. The rest passed in a blur - his attempt to shake hands, Eric's deliberate rudeness as he linked his own hands behind his back. The contempt in those dark eyes as they examined him, taking stock of his dirty overalls, then assessed and dismissed his friends. Then, in only a few seconds, his former friend was turning away.

"What's his problem?" Lucas asked as they watched him run to join his companions.

"I wish I knew," Wes said. "Eric and I went to school together for a couple of years. He had an attitude back then, too. But now he's worse." Worse -- and inevitably they would run into each other again, since they were both now in the business of fighting Ransik. But it probably wouldn't be often. Wes would be safely hidden in his helmet, Eric would be just another Guardian. No reason for them to be thrown together. Strangely, that thought was almost disappointing.

* * *

_"Wes, why aren't you wearing your headset?"_ The harsh voice in his cell phone brought him back to the present, to his office in Bio-Lab, with a jolt. A glance out of the window showed the sky darkening. The day was almost over. 

"Sorry, Eric. Just -- took it off for a minute." The truth was, he hated the headset, and rarely wore it. The Guardians all knew the only way to contact him was on the phone, and he didn't see why it would be a problem. But it was a sore spot with Eric.

_"We've got an alarm, at the south warehouse. You in?"_

"You bet. I'll be right there." He was already starting for the door after grabbing up the hated headset, thoughts of home and dinner with his father forgotten. There was a new narcotics shipment at the south warehouse, that must be what they were after. A chance to go into action, maybe even to use his morpher again. It had been so long, he missed the excitement; to be honest, he missed the power. He broke into a run.

* * *

It was just starting to rain as they arrived, the sky dark and gloomy overhead, the huge warehouse building looming over them. Eric issued a series of instructions, sending Guardians on their way to set up a perimeter, and to find the thieves' vehicle. Wes took command of a small group of men and stopped for a last consultation before heading out. 

"I can come in from the back," he said.

Eric's face was almost invisible in the night, his eyes shadowed. "Okay. I'll take the front." He reached to catch Wes's arm as he turned away. "There's a supply of blast rifles stored in there, too. An experimental design from when Ransik was here. If they've got those…"

"I know. We'd better go in first, to check it out. And use these." He held up his left arm, with his morpher.

"Yeah. Okay. Call as soon as you spot anything."

"You too. Good luck."

A quick nod, and he was on his way with his men, walking as silently as they could around the building, the large, unlit old warehouse seeming full of menace as Wes watched it uneasily. Those blasters could be deadly, no one knew that better than he did. Or Eric. With any luck, the thieves didn't know about them. But maybe that was exactly what they were after.

At the back door, they stopped. Wes looked his group over and assigned them to hiding places. He would go in first, alone. With the morpher, he could withstand a limited amount of blaster fire. No need to expose them, not yet.

"Eric, I'm ready," he whispered into his morpher.

The reply came quickly and softly. "Let's move in."

Best to morph outside, less chance they would see him. Wes raised the morpher again and touched a button, automatically closing his eyes for an instant as the light of transformation flashed around him, warping the dimensions of space to retrieve his fighting equipment and replace his uniform with it. In an instant he was in the red and white Time Force Ranger suit that he had kept after his teammates had returned to the future.

The door opened with only a slight sound, and he slipped in, sensors in his helmet allowing him to see in the near complete darkness. Pausing for a moment, he listened, Ranger-enhanced hearing picking up faint sounds. He started to pick his cautious way in that direction.

Minutes later he found them, five men picking through a row of crates. The narcotics. But they had already been busy. Each carried a rifle, the design he recognized from about a year ago, the weapons his father's scientists had built. The Guardians had used them for a time, but when Ransik had been defeated and returned to his own time, along with his accomplices and the cyclobots, the rifles had been discarded in favor of the smaller, less dangerous hand blasters they had copied from the cyclobots' weapons.

They should have been dismantled, he realized, but it had never been done. There had always been the possibility that they'd be needed again. Now, ironically, they might be turned against him. He crept closer, seeking the cover of a pile of packing crates.

When he caught the flash of movement it was already too late. A sixth man was standing on a shipping carton, aiming at him. Wes leaped as the bolt of energy reached for him, avoiding it, only to fall clumsily over a pile of small boxes. But he had summoned his own blaster, rolled onto his back and aimed hastily, getting off a shot before the second burst hit him.

His attacker fell, but Wes gasped as a painful shock tore through him. Couldn't take too many more of those. He scrambled to his feet and looked around, realizing the first five men had disappeared, then seeing one of them, already aiming at him. Wes was faster, he shot and dropped him, then cried out and fell to his knees as another bolt hit him from behind. And another, before he could move. And another…

The first thing he saw after the burst of light and paralyzing shock of demorphing was a red and black figure running toward him, blaster blazing at his attackers, Eric's voice calling his name. But their enemies were ready, a barrage of blaster fire caught the Quantum Ranger, driving him back, bringing him down, as Wes struggled to move, helpless to save his partner or himself.

* * *

TBC... 


	2. The Dark

Wes and Eric belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Any others you don't recognize are mine. 

Rated R : Strong and descriptive but not explicit sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence. 

This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this. 

Reviews are always appreciated. 

Red Fire

* * *

* * *

The Dark

* * *

"Wes!" Eric gasped, as another blast hit him. He fell, got up, kept going, firing back with the Quantum Defender. A shot seemed to hit its target, the energy beams stopped for a moment. He bent, dragged Wes up, looked around, and headed for the closest doorway. As he glanced back and saw movement, he shoved Wes in front of him, pushed him through into another dark room just as two more blasts struck him. There was pain, so much it numbed him, then the electrifying jolt as he felt himself demorph. With his last trace of strength, he stumbled through the doorway, tried to turn, felt himself fall helplessly. But another form was on his feet, Wes lurched past and slammed the door shut, the sound of the bolt sliding home the last thing Eric heard as the darkness of the room blended into the blankness of unconsciousness. 

* * *

"Eric? Eric, are you all right?" When he opened his eyes again, a flashlight was glaring in his eyes. It moved away, then up to illuminate Wes's face staring down at him, stark fear in it, quickly vanishing into a smile as he blinked up and raised a hand to his head. 

"I'm okay..." he mumbled. "What happened?" 

"You got us in here before you demorphed. I locked the door." 

"Where are they?" 

"Still outside, I guess. We knocked out at least three of them, I think. I heard them moving around." 

"How many?" 

"I saw at least six. Maybe more." 

"Gotta call Steve..." Eric reached for his headset, to call their second-in-command, Steve Miller. 

"I tried already. This room must be shielded. Can't get through with the headsets or the phone." 

Eric stared at him for a moment before dragging himself into a sitting position. He tried both headset and cell phone himself as Wes watched, more or less patiently. "Damn it," he said softly. "We have to get out of here. With those rifles, they could kill someone. Can't fight them ourselves until our morphers recharge..." 

"That'll take hours." 

"I know. Let's see if there's another way out." 

He took a few more moments before trying to stand up, with Wes's help. They started out, circling the room, Eric cursing softly as they stumbled over almost invisible objects in the darkness, the thin beams of their flashlights the only illumination. 

The room was small, for a warehouse, it took only a few minutes to return to the door, after making the circuit. After finding nothing. Eric found a box to sit on and sank down gratefully, Wes dropping to sit on the floor, leaning against the wall. 

"What's a damn shielded room doing here, anyway?" Eric demanded. 

"Dunno. Maybe there were radioactive materials here or something." 

"Great. There goes my chance to have kids." 

Wes snorted in laughter, glancing at him quickly and then away. "They wouldn't have put anything too dangerous here. And it's empty now." 

Dimly, sounds came from the other side of the door, footsteps, voices, too faint to make out the words. They both sat silently, listening. Then they jumped as there was the unmistakable sizzle of an energy beam. The metal door vibrated for a moment. Another blast, another metallic shudder. Then nothing. 

"The door's holding," Eric said tensely. 

"For now. We should get on the other side of the room. See what kind of cover we can find." 

They got up, explored with their flashlight beams, collected a pile of boxes and packing materials. In twenty minutes they had a makeshift barrier in place, and were slumped on the floor behind its flimsy protection. Eric leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes, exhausted by the brief exertion. 

"You okay?" 

Eric moved his light to regard Wes, a few feet away from him. "I'll live. You don't look so great yourself." 

"Yeah, being blasted into oblivion kinda takes it out of you." 

"Tell me about it." Eric closed his eyes and tilted his head back for a few minutes. It was quiet and almost completely dark now, after they had both turned off their flashlights to save the batteries. He realized there was a very faint light, some kind of glow strips in the ceiling, barely enough for him to make out Wes's face as his eyes adjusted. He tried to relax, letting himself drift as sleepiness hazed into his mind, realized the sensation was the aftereffects of the blasts he had taken, and tried to shake it off. "Wes?" he said. "Talk to me. Don't fall asleep." 

"Okay." Wes's voice sounded a little drowsy, too. "What do you want to talk about?" 

"I dunno. Your anniversary. What it's like being a Ranger. Anything." 

"Funny. Just today I was thinking, about school. The dorm. The guys." 

"How we met?" 

"I guess... And when we saw each other again, ten years later. That fight with Nadira, remember? The first time the Silver Guardians went into action." He chuckled softly. "You wouldn't shake hands with me." 

"Don't remind me. I was such an asshole." 

Eric closed his eyes again, sifting through the memories those words brought back. Wes... it had been a shock seeing him again, when he came to town and first joined the Silver Guardians. It was the first time since prep school... 

* * *

Eric had known he was gay since childhood, since he could remember. He had simply lumped it together with the other ways in which he was different; the drunken, promiscuous mother, the abusive father, the miserable dump they lived in, the constant lack of money. It never seemed all that important, he had few friends anyway, hardly anyone he had to hide the truth from. No one he wanted to be with, no sense of his own loneliness. Until he met Wes. 

That had been at one of the low points of his life. Nothing compared to when his father took off or his mother abandoned him, of course. But a time that should have been good, but somehow wasn't. An opportunity, a scholarship to a fancy prep school, the chance for a really good education. For anyone else, it might have been a chance to make wealthy and powerful friends, but not for Eric. Kissing up wasn't in his collection of skills. 

So he showed his disdain for his schoolmates, most of whom he considered lazy and stupid, there only because of their fathers' money. Until he met Wes... 

"Hi. Wes Collins." 

Eric couldn't help smiling at the boy holding out a hand for him to shake, a warm and happy smile lighting his face. A handsome face and an athletic body, he couldn't help noticing. "Hi. I'm Eric Myers," he responded, putting out his own hand. 

"You're new here." 

"Yeah. Started a few weeks ago. Transferred in." 

Wes regarded him thoughtfully. "Myers. Can't say I've heard of your family." 

He almost laughed. "You wouldn't have. They're not exactly society." 

"Where are you from?" 

"A little town up the coast. Canela Beach." 

"Sorry, never heard of that either. Your folks still live there?" 

"No. They're gone." He saw Wes's expression of sympathy, and let the small deception remain. Better for people to think his parents were dead, than to know the truth. But he wouldn't lie about anything else. "I'm here on scholarship," he said. 

"Yeah? You must make good grades. Frankly, half the kids around here just live to party. Maybe if I hang out with you, I'll do a little studying for once." Wes grinned at him again, with that infectious smile. "I'm from Silver Hills, myself... Hey, what are you doing for lunch?" 

That had been the first time they met. Wes, who was smart, who was nice, who for whatever reason made an effort to be his friend. Wes, who had the sexiest mouth... Eric had fallen for him, hard, with all the intensity of an otherwise empty heart. Had thought for a while that he might have a chance. Wes dated rarely, had no serious girlfriend. Maybe... Eric had no experience, didn't know what signals to look for, thought there was something in the way Wes looked at him sometimes, but hesitated, afraid to lose even his friendship. And of course, that was exactly what had happened, when he stupidly tried it, or almost did... Wes had run as fast as he could in the opposite direction, just as he'd feared. 

With his one friend gone, Eric had sunk further into resentment and unhappiness, starting to hate his schoolmates, even Wes. Maybe particularly Wes. But it hadn't lasted long, his scholarship had ended, and his education with it. With no money, he was forced to drop out. 

Ten years in the military had given him another opportunity, and he had taken full advantage of it. The training, the discipline, the companionship of others who had come from similar backgrounds, had filled a void in his life. He had found sex, too, mostly quick and furtive encounters in dark places, always with the fear of discovery. None of them had meant anything beyond the pleasure of the moment, but that was enough. 

He had put his childhood behind him, and Wes with it, or so he thought. Except for the times when he was alone, with only himself to turn to for satisfaction, imagining the hands touching him were someone else's -- someone with blond hair and blue-green eyes that crinkled slightly at the corners when he smiled... 

And then, ten years later, after the fight with Nadira, there he was. Eric had expected it. Wes lived in Silver Hills, his father owned Bio-Lab. It was inevitable they'd run into each other sooner or later. But he hadn't expected it to be quite so soon. 

Wes, looking almost the same as in school, better if anything, a little maturity in his face now, his hair a little longer and looser. Still handsome, still that athletic body, those eyes a unique shade of blue-green, full lips that made him wonder if they felt as soft as they looked... 

_None of that,_ he told himself. _It's over, it's been over for years, never existed in the first place, don't be a fool, not again. Just say hello and get out of here._ He stopped in front of them, all five staring at him blankly, obviously wondering what he wanted. He noticed the others only in passing, a tall, very good-looking Asian man, a shorter, younger Asian man with ridiculous green hair, a tall brown-skinned woman. And the pretty brunette woman next to Wes, standing staring at him with cold eyes, hands behind her back. 

He had to take off his sunglasses before Wes even recognized him. And he saw a flash of shock and dismay, the first reaction before Wes smiled and held out his hand. Just a flash, but it was enough. Stung, still fighting his own emotions, Eric clasped his hands behind his own back, said something deliberately insulting, and escaped as soon as he could, running back to the cars. 

He had thought it was over. Had hoped it was, that he would never see Wes again, or at least not soon, not often. Just that brief meeting had been enough, more than enough. But it had happened only the next day, when the Guardians went into action and ended up helping the Rangers against another mutant attack. That was when he found out the truth, in that moment when he recognized Wes in the red Ranger's suit, his helmet broken open after a violent fight. 

After that, Wes had run off without a word or even a glance for his old school 'friend'. Shaken, burning with envy, resentment, and rejection, Eric had made himself a promise. He would find a way to compete, to make himself Wes's equal, if not superior. He'd find a way to have everything Wes had, to take the place he had given up at Bio-Lab, to show him... he wasn't sure what. And he would never, ever, let Wes know what he really felt. 

* * *

Back in the present, in a dark room in a dark warehouse, he spoke into the silence. "What was it like the first time for you, Wes?" 

"Huh?" The word sounded almost alarmed. 

Eric grinned in the darkness. "I don't mean _that_. I mean the first time you morphed." 

"Oh. Well -- it was great, actually. Exciting. It was the first time all of us morphed. Ransik had just arrived, Jen and the others needed me to use the red morpher, so all the morphers would activate." 

"Never really understood that. Your DNA is the same as Alex's?" 

"No. But similar. We're probably related. Trip was able to modify the morpher so it would accept me." 

"Nice trick. You're lucky he was such a genius." 

"Yeah." Wes's voice was wistful. 

"And they were lucky to find you. Out of all the people in the world, they bump into Alex's relative. His double." 

"I guess... Trip thinks it was the timestream, protecting itself. Fate, sort of." He paused. "Anyway, we all morphed for the first time, together. The others knew what they were doing, luckily. It was great... you know the feeling... like nothing can stop you. We kicked butt. I loved it, couldn't wait to do it again." 

"Yeah. I know the feeling. The power... it seems to fill you up..." 

There was more silence for a few seconds, until Wes continued. "We were lucky you got the Quantum morpher, too." 

Eric smiled. "You didn't think so at the time." 

"No, you're right about that." 

They hadn't been happy at all, when Eric had taken the Quantum morpher. They had tried to get it back. Wes had tried, several times. "Remember the warehouse, Wes?" he asked. "The first time I morphed?" 

"Sure. I saved your life, when those cyclobots were about to zap you." 

"The second time that day." 

"And you were as grateful as usual." 

Eric chuckled. Yes, he hadn't been very grateful. Had been a complete jerk. He could still remember the resentment he had felt, the anger, when Wes had saved him, and when he had demanded the box that contained the Quantum morpher. 

They had fought back to back, forced to be allies, but then becoming enemies when the moment of truth came, when Eric had claimed the morpher for himself, just before that first time he had become the Quantum Ranger. When Wes had pleaded with him not to do it. 

_"This isn't about us!"_

But of course it had been about them. A lot of it, anyway. About his own desire to have whatever Wes had, to share his power. Did he also see it as a way to share his life? To be a part of it, at least? 

"Why did you say that?" he asked now, in a different warehouse, almost two years later. 

"Say what?" 

"That it wasn't about us." 

There was a hesitation. "I -- I knew you hated me. Thought you didn't want to give back the morpher because of that." 

"Wes..." Eric sighed. "I never hated you. Not even close. You know that." 

Now there was silence. Eric tried to see Wes's face in the darkness, knowing he had just stepped over the line, had reminded him of the one thing he had promised never to mention again. Just as he was taking a breath to apologize, wondering if that would only make it worse, Wes spoke up again. 

"Is it getting stuffy in here?" 

Startled, Eric sniffed the air. Wes was right. And a chilling thought followed on that realization. "Yeah. This room is shielded. Probably sealed. No ventilation." 

"Meaning, we're going to run out of air." 

"Yeah," he said reluctantly. 

"How long?" 

"I don't know. A few hours, if we stay quiet." 

"Our morphers should recharge enough by then." 

"I hope so." The morphers drew energy from the environment to rebuild their power supply. Here, at night, in a sealed room, there was precious little energy available for them to use. They should be able to morph again before the air ran out. But it would be close. 

* * *

TBC... 


	3. The Enemies

Wes and Eric belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Any others you don't recognize are mine. 

Rated R: strong and descriptive but not explicit sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence. 

This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this. 

Reviews are always appreciated. 

Red Fire

* * *

* * *

The Enemies

* * *

"Hello! Rangers!" 

"Shit," Eric muttered. 

"Shhh." Wes stood up, clicked on his flashlight, and cautiously looked out. The voice had come from the other side of the door protecting them from the thieves who had them trapped in a Bio-Lab warehouse. He could barely hear it. "I'm going to the door," he said. 

"It could be a trap." 

"I don't think they can get through the door. Not quickly, anyway." He moved around the barrier they had set up to protect themselves and walked to the door, pressing his ear against it. Another light made him look back, to see Eric coming after him. Together they leaned against the door, listening. 

"Rangers! We want to talk! Maybe we can make a deal!" It was a male voice, steady and confident. 

"Only one of us should answer," Eric whispered. "Let them think one of us is dead." 

"Good idea. I'll talk to them." Wes raised his voice and shouted, "I don't make deals with murderers!" 

"We haven't killed anyone! Not yet!" 

"Yes you have! My partner's dead! You killed him!" Wes managed to put a good deal of anger into his voice. 

They waited, hearing the murmur of low voices as the thieves consulted. Then, "Which one are you?" 

After a glance at Eric, Wes shouted, "Wes Collins!" 

More low voices, before another shout. "Open the door and come out, and we won't hurt you!" 

Wes didn't need Eric's help to answer that one. "You must be kidding!" 

"You can't stay in there forever. Look, maybe your partner's not dead. You could get medical help for him." 

"He's dead, all right. And why the hell should I trust you?" 

"You don't have much choice." 

"And _you_ don't have much time, before the Guardians and the police get you." 

Another pause. "Think about it, Collins. If we have to shoot our way out, someone's going to get killed. You could prevent that. Tell them to let us go." 

"What about the blast rifles you stole?" 

"We'll leave them. We just want out." 

"Yeah, right. Sorry, not buying it." 

There was no answer. After waiting a few moments, Wes turned away from the door and touched Eric's arm. They moved back to the other side of the room, behind their barricade. "They just want a hostage," he said when they were sitting on the floor again, his voice lowered. 

"Yeah. Unfortunately, you'd make an excellent one. Maybe _I_ should have talked to them." 

"You're just as important to Bio-Lab as I am. Maybe more." 

"But not as important to your father." 

Wes smiled. "Sometimes I wonder..." They sat quietly for a time. Wes began to notice the air again, the stuffiness. It wasn't hard to breathe, not yet, but it wouldn't be too much longer. He spoke again, mostly to distract himself. "My father took to you pretty fast, didn't he? Made you commander of the Guardians." 

"Yeah, right." The tinge of bitterness in Eric's voice took him by surprise. "He didn't exactly just hand it to me. Made me fight for it." 

"I guess. That's not the impression you gave me when we had that little talk in the yards." 

"The yards. Do you have to remind me of _every_ time I acted like an asshole?" 

"I haven't even mentioned our trip into the past. When you attacked me, stuck your blaster in my face, almost stranded me there." 

"Yeah, thanks for not mentioning that," Eric said dryly. 

"You're welcome." Wes smiled, but only for a moment. Those had definitely not been good times, when Eric had seemed to hate him, had attacked him at every opportunity, both verbally and physically. 

Their trip to the past. Eric had flown his TF Eagle through a timehole in pursuit of one of Ransik's mutants and Wes had hitched a ride, trying to help. Eric of course hadn't wanted help, and they had ended up fighting each other instead of the real enemy. 

Eric had overcome him, forced him to his knees, pointed his blaster right in his face, and laughed. Wes could still remember the sound of it, that soft chuckle. It had made his blood run cold. The laugh of a man who has someone he hates right where he wants him. 

But Eric hadn't killed him, had only pushed him down when he saw the return timehole opening up. Had called the Eagle, leaped into it, and taken off, with an ironic salute for Wes. _That_ had been the worst moment, when he had believed himself abandoned in the past, the only human on the planet, with no way to get home, no hope… The volcanic eruption he was caught in was only a finishing touch. 

"Were you really going to leave me?" he asked. 

Eric obviously knew exactly what he was talking about. "Shit, Wes. What do _you_ think?" he asked sharply. 

"You seemed like you wanted to." 

"Well, I didn't. I came back, didn't I?" 

"Yeah, when it was almost too late." 

"I admit, I didn't mind scaring you a little." Eric sounded uncomfortable now. 

"A little!" Wes paused, the remembered fear of those moments turning into anger. "You know, you have a real cruel streak sometimes." 

There was silence for a few seconds, long enough for Wes to start feeling guilty. "I'm sorry," Eric finally said. "When I get angry, sometimes I do things I know aren't right…" 

"And you were angry with me." 

"Yeah. You kept trying to take the morpher away from me." 

"And I tried it again, in the yards." 

"Yeah." He heard Eric sigh softly. 

Wes closed his eyes, remembering that incident, the second time he had been seriously afraid of Eric. They had both been so angry then. The yards behind Bio-Lab. When he had come to talk, alone, for a last attempt to get the morpher back. Had thought that maybe Eric would be more reasonable if it was just the two of them. Hadn't believed his former friend could really hate him so much. Wanted to make it right between them, somehow. But of course it had turned out all wrong, just more argument, more insults, and another fight, ending with Eric's blaster pointed at him again. 

"Wes? Wes, talk to me." 

Eric's voice brought him back from a haze of remembered anger. "What?" 

"We're still zapped from those blaster shots. And the air's getting stale. We can't fall asleep." 

"I wasn't sleeping." 

"Then talk to me. What were you thinking about?" 

"Nothing." 

"Come on, Wes." 

"Why don't _you_ talk?" 

"Geez. Okay." There was a brief silence. "Remember the time you came to see me, after the thing with Notacon and the time with Conwing?" 

"You mean after you tried to kill a harmless mutant and punched me in the stomach when I stopped you, and then refused to work with us again?" 

"Shit, Wes…" 

"Okay, sorry. Go on." 

"Why did you do it?" 

"What do you mean, why?" 

"Why make the effort, after I did everything I could to screw you over? I couldn't believe it when you showed up at my door." 

"You thought I was a fool, didn't you?" 

"Actually, no. It really impressed me. Made me think. Why did you do it?" 

"I didn't want us to be enemies, Eric. I still wanted us to work together." All true… He had wanted to make one last effort, to see if they could be allies, if he could get Eric to work with the team. And maybe there had been another reason. Looking back, he knew that he also wanted to somehow recapture that fleeting friendship they had once had, that for some incomprehensible reason, he still liked Eric, and felt the need to be liked by him in return… 

* * *

He had been there before, on his motorcycle, face hidden under his helmet, watching. The first time, he had seen Eric in his backyard, talking to a little girl who must belong to one of his neighbors. They had been playing with a couple of birds in a cage which he had finally realized were Eric's. So strange, to think of him having pets, caring about something as small and insignificant as a bird. Even stranger to see him smiling, being friendly. 

Maybe that was his real nature showing through, maybe the anger was only for them, because they had tried to get the morpher back. Or maybe it was only for _him_, Wes thought uncomfortably. Ever since that time in school… The sudden image came to him, the two of them sitting in the dorm study room, close enough to kiss… 

Back then, he had watched for a while and left, unseen. This time, he parked his cycle and got off, summoning courage before walking up to the house and knocking. The wait was just long enough for him to wonder if Eric was home, before the door swung open. 

Eric eyed him coldly. "What do you want?" he demanded. 

"I think we need to talk." 

"What do we have to talk about?" 

Irritation began to overcome Wes's nervousness. "Why don't you let me in and find out?" 

Eric's eyes flared, but he stood aside and said, "Come on in," calmly enough. "Want anything?" he asked as they entered a small living room. "All I have is coffee and water." 

"No, thanks." Wes's lips twitched in a brief smile. "You can actually be almost polite. Amazing." 

"Yeah, I'm always surprising people." Eric motioned him to sit on the sofa, and dropped into a chair, staring at him. "So, what the fuck do you want?" 

"Eric… I want the same thing I wanted after you beat Conwing. For all of us to work together." 

"Not going to happen. I don't do teams." 

"You work with the Guardians." 

"That's different. They work for me, now." He smiled, an unfriendly expression. "So unless you're offering to put your team under my command…" 

"No way. Jen's our leader, and that's the way it's staying." 

"Then fuck this shit. We've got nothing to talk about." 

Suddenly angry, Wes stood up. "In that case, I'll stop wasting my time." He turned for the door. 

Eric's voice stopped him. "Jen. The one with brown hair." 

"Yeah… The one who pulled you out of the river." Wes turned back to see Eric standing also. 

"What's the story between you two?" There was a spark of something in his eyes, quickly hidden. 

"How is that your business?" 

"Just wondering." 

"We're friends. Teammates." 

"Is that all?" Eric's voice was soft now, his eyes watchful. 

Not understanding -- or not wanting to understand -- why he was suddenly so uncomfortable, Wes answered, "Yeah, that's all. Why, are you interested?" 

"In her? No." Eric moved closer. 

"Look, Eric, I just came here to see if we could stop fighting each other," Wes said, facing him. "We're all Rangers. I guess we have to accept that you're going to keep the Quantum morpher. And… you've been a big help so far. I'd really like it if we could work together. Maybe even be friends again, like in school. We liked each other once, remember? Why not again?" 

"Liked each other. I guess we did." Eric took a step closer. "But a lot's changed since school." 

"Yeah…" Wes trailed off. Eric was face to face with him now, too close, his eyes intent. He stopped, then moved forward again, a little, his gaze dropping to Wes's lips, just like that time in the dorm… They stared at each other, as Wes felt his heart start to pound. 

"I'd -- I'd better get going," Wes said, a little breathlessly. He started towards the door after another look into Eric's eyes. 

"Wait." He looked back to see Eric looking uncomfortable now. "I won't work with you, but I'll help when I can," he said, a little defiantly. "And… I never thanked Jen for saving my life. Could you…" 

"Sure. I'll tell her," Wes said with a smile. "So… I guess I'll see you around." 

"Yeah." Eric followed him to the door. 

Wes quickly returned to his motorcycle, put on his helmet, and got on. A furtive glance back showed Eric still standing there, watching. As he saw Wes look up, he hastily stepped back and slammed the door. 

* * *

Wes chuckled at that last memory. "You were your usual charming self that day. I guess I was lucky you didn't toss me out on my ass." 

"It was tempting. But I was starting to realize you guys weren't all bad." 

"And we were starting to think the same thing about you." 

"Hmm. You lied to me that day, you know." 

"How's that?" 

"Told me you and Jen were just friends." 

"At that point, we were. But…" 

"Go on. Tell me about it." 

"Sure you want to talk about her?" 

Eric's voice took on a slightly ironic note. "Why not? Makes no difference now, does it?" 

"I guess. Okay. We were just friends, then. But I had already fallen for her… Maybe the first time I saw her." 

Had it been the first time? When she bumped into him in front of the mall? That had been only a quick glance, a muttered 'excuse me'. Or the second time, when he had seen her being attacked by cyclobots and gone riding to the rescue? He could still see the expression on her face when she got her first good look at him. Because he looked like Alex, of course. 

Or maybe it was when she came to his house, looking for him. Asking him to help; so determined, so serious, so angry when he didn't believe her story about time travel and mutants. Even then, when he thought she was crazy, he had been impressed. 

But it had grown on him, his love for her, over the months. Seeing her courage and dedication, her toughness and the vulnerability underneath, the way she worked so hard, the way she challenged him. Even the way she got mad. He had admired her for all those things, the qualities he didn't have… In fact, Eric had a lot of those qualities too… and where had _that_ come from? 

"What exactly did you love about her?" Eric's words startled him, echoing his thoughts. 

"Well -- she was strong. Determined. And beautiful, of course." 

Eric's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Oh, of course. Must be why you never fucked her." 

"Geez, Eric... Sometimes you're really disgusting." 

"Yeah, that's me. Unlike the untouchable Jen." 

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" 

"Collins!" The shout was unexpected, startling him back to their immediate problem. Wes jumped, and heard Eric move beside him, getting to his feet. 

"Our buddies want to talk again," he muttered. They both moved around their barricade and to the door, pressing their ears against it. 

"Collins!" came the voice again, the same one as before. "You alive in there?" 

"Yeah, no thanks to you!" 

"Good to hear it. Have you thought about our offer?" 

"Sorry, I don't feel like being a hostage." 

There was a slight pause. "Look, we don't want a hostage. Just a negotiator. Come out peacefully, and you won't be hurt." 

"What do you think?" Wes whispered. "If I go with them, maybe you could stay in here. Play dead, and then contact Steve and the others." 

"I don't know. It's risky. As soon as they realize I'm alive, they'll kill you." 

"Not if we time it right." 

"Well, it's a possibility. But for right now, let's wait. They're more likely to get careless when they start getting desperate." 

"I don't want Steve and the guys shooting it out with them," Wes protested. "Someone'll get killed." 

"We won't help by getting killed ourselves. When our morphers have recharged a little, we can put up a fight." A hand briefly dropped on Wes's shoulder. "If we hear shots outside, we'll go. Morphers or not." 

"Hey in there!" the voice from outside shouted again. "Are you coming out or not?" 

"Try to stall them," Eric whispered. "Keep them talking." 

"Still thinking about it!" Wes shouted. "Who are you, anyway?" 

"You don't expect me to give names, do you?" 

"It would be nice to be able to call you something." 

After another hesitation, the answer came. "Okay. Call me Joe." 

"Joe. Okay, Joe, what do you want here? What are you after?" 

"Just trying to make a living, Collins. A lot like you." 

"I'm not a thief. Or a killer." 

"We're sorry about your partner." 

"Yeah, I'll bet." 

"Look, we're just trying to do a job here. Take a few things, get out, nice and neat, no one gets hurt. It's gone wrong, I'll admit. Now we just want out, in one piece. The same thing you want. We don't have to be enemies. Come out, and we can all walk away from this." 

"Why should I trust you?" 

"You don't have much of a choice." 

Wes took a deep breath. "I think I'll take my chances in here for a while longer!" 

"Okay. Your funeral." 

"Well, I guess we wait…" Wes was turning away as he was cut off by the sound of a barrage of blaster fire, loud even through the door. He spun around and backed away, snapping on his flashlight to watch as the door shuddered visibly. 

"Wes, get back!" Eric was pulling on his arm. They both retreated, crouched behind the flimsy protection of their pile of boxes, watched the door as the sound of a steady burst of combined blast rifle fire filled the room. 

"Do you think the door will hold?" Wes asked tensely. 

"Hope so." They waited a few more minutes, but it didn't stop. "Switch off your flashlight," Eric said suddenly. In the renewed darkness, Wes saw a spot in the middle of the door glow a dull red, and noticed that he felt warmth. 

"If they melt the lock, we'll never get out of here in time!" he said. 

"I know." 

And then it was over, as abruptly as it began. They stared, watching the hot spot on the door rapidly fade. The voice from outside shouted again. "You have an hour, Collins. Then we're coming in to get you." 

* * *

TBC... 


	4. The Allies

Wes and Eric belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Any others you don't recognize are mine.

Sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence.

This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this.

Reviews are always appreciated.

**Red Fire**

* * *

The Allies

* * *

"An hour," Eric said. "Think that'll be enough time for our morphers to get up to speed?" 

"They helped by blasting the shit out of the door. More energy in the environment. We should be able to morph for a while, anyway."

"So meanwhile we wait."

"Yeah." Wes went on after a moment. "We have no choice. If I don't give up, they'll blast through the door or melt the lock. You play dead, I'll open the door. When they come inside, we'll call Steve, morph as fast as we can, and get them. If the morphers have a decent charge, we should be okay."

Eric bit back his doubt and fear. Wes was right. It wasn't much of a chance, but it was the only one they had. "Okay," he said. "If they decide to make sure I'm dead, you should have time to morph while they're distracted with me."

"And then I can attack, while you morph."

Fighting back the uneasy conviction that things were bound not to go according to plan, Eric settled back into his spot on the floor. Feeling the increased heat, he unbuttoned his jacket, leaned against the wall, and tried to relax. There was silence for a time.

"What were we talking about?" Wes finally asked.

"Jen. Your undying love."

Wes apparently chose to ignore the sarcasm. "I guess maybe she's back with Alex now," he said. "Maybe even married."

"Does it bother you?"

"Not really. I hope they're happy."

"You don't want her back anymore?"

He heard Wes stir uneasily. "Well, sure, I want her back. I miss her. Still love her."

Eric hesitated. They had rarely discussed Jen, each for his own reasons. He had resolved long ago to keep his opinions to himself, unsure of how much of what he felt was only jealousy. But somehow, now, here, in the dark and the danger, he felt the need to say what he really thought.

"I don't think you ever really loved her."

"What are you talking about?"

"Shit, you wait until the minute she's leaving to tell her you love her? I was watching. You didn't even kiss her goodbye. What kind of crap is that?"

"It wasn't like that between us. We had something special. You don't understand."

"Yeah, I'm much too crude. Never felt that kind of pure and noble love. And I hope to shit I never do."

"Well, I guess I'm just not like you. I can love someone without thinking about sex all the time."

"I'm a realist, Wes. There was nothing really stopping you and Jen. You were both adults. Alex was gone. They even broke up, at the end. If you're in love with someone, you want to have sex with her. Or him. Why the hell didn't you do it?"

"I respected her! Something you wouldn't understand!"

"She probably would've liked a little less respect and a little more action."

"Don't talk about her like that! Shit, you don't know anything about love. All you care about is sex."

There was silence for a long moment. Eric sighed softly, hearing his own bitterness in his voice as he answered, "Yeah. That's right." From Wes's point of view, maybe he deserved it. That was probably the impression he had given, that night just over a year ago, grabbing like that, the first chance he got. But what he had felt had been so much more than 'just sex'... They sat silently and unhappily again for a time.

"Eric?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I said that."

"What, the sex thing? Forget it. Sorry I insulted your saintly love for Jen."

"I _did_ love her."

"I guess." Eric sighed again.

"What, you don't believe me?"

"Honestly? Yeah, I think you loved her. As a friend, and a teammate. But you weren't _in love_ with her."

"I was! I am! Why do you think I'm not seeing anyone else?"

"That's another thing. How long are you going to wait? It's been a year already. How long are you going to use Jen as an excuse to be alone, so you don't have to face the truth about yourself-"

"Don't start, Eric." Wes's voice was deadly with anger. "Don't even try to go there."

"Okay. All right. But I still think you need to get over Jen and get interested in someone else."

"Shit, you keep trying to tell me how I feel! I know better than you do! And besides, I don't see _you_ shacking up with anyone either!"

"Whatever you say, Wes."

"I _did_ love Jen. I was jealous of Alex, when he showed up."

"Right."

"That time when Dad was attacked. Alex came back, and took my morpher. Shit, so many things happened…"

So many things. Eric closed his eyes and leaned his head back. So many things had happened in those few days. To Wes, and to him…

* * *

He had been dazed by it all. First Venomark, the city attacked, hundreds of people sick, dying. Horrifying. And of course Wes had been the one to come up with a cure, the one who played the hero. But for once Eric hadn't been resentful. It was the way Wes had looked, so scared, when he came to Bio-Lab looking for his father's help, so worried about his friends. For the first time, Eric had seen him as vulnerable, had felt a sudden, powerful urge to help and protect him. Had wanted to take him in his arms… but of course that was impossible. 

Instead he had taken Wes to his father, and stood by him as the Bio-Lab scientists worked to produce the cure. Had made sure he got enough to save his friends. And Wes had been grateful. It was a small beginning for them, and the end of any real hostility. Even later, when Wes had tried to take back the leftover serum, Eric had stopped him, but his heart hadn't really been in it.

Then Ransik had attacked Bio-Lab. Mr. Collins -- Alan -- had come so close to dying, and Eric had faced some unpleasant truths. That he cared about his employer, almost like a father. That Wes would be taking over, if Mr. Collins died. That Wes had every reason to hate or at least distrust him. That he couldn't bear it if Wes fired him, if someone he cared for took away everything he had won for himself. And worst of all, the lurking suspicion that his feelings for Wes had gone beyond that old schoolboy crush, and beyond a physical attraction; that they had deepened into something he didn't want to name.

He had decided that perhaps the best thing would be to leave, to give up, run away; and had started to do it, gone so far as to pack, send in a letter of resignation, and start driving out of town. But something had stopped him. Not Frax, attacking the city. He had already decided to stay. He had found himself unable to leave, unwilling to run out on Mr. Collins, to let down a city in trouble, even to leave the other Rangers when they needed his help, or at least his morpher. And maybe most of all, he couldn't leave Wes.

After the battle with Frax's robot, they had taken another small step, when Eric had been driving back and seen Wes on foot, and offered him a ride. Something so simple…

"Get in. I'll give you a ride."

"Okay."

Wes sat silently for a while as Eric drove. He didn't even ask where Wes wanted to go; he knew. The hospital, the same place where he had already been headed.

"Wes…"

"Yeah?" Wes didn't look at him, eyes on the road, obviously distracted.

"I hope he's okay."

"Thanks." Blue eyes were watching him now.

"I…" But they were already there. No time, and he didn't know what to say, anyway. "I'll find a place to park. You go ahead."

"Thanks." Wes smiled at him as he slid out. "Thanks a lot."

Another step. And then later… After Mr. Collins was out of danger, and he was giving Wes another ride, back to Bio-Lab…

"Were you going somewhere?" Wes asked. He glanced pointedly at the suitcase in Eric's back seat.

"I _was_," he said, steadily enough. "Look, I need to talk to you."

"Okay."

"In your dad's office. Please."

It felt strange somehow, walking through the hallways of Bio-Lab with Wes beside him. Certainly the people he passed thought so, they got a few puzzled looks. But it also felt right. And finally they were alone again, in Wes's father's large, dark office, facing each other across the desk.

"So what's up?" Wes asked, dropping into the chair as if he belonged there. Which he did, at the moment, until Mr. Collins returned.

"Sir…" Eric straightened up automatically.

"Shit, don't call me _sir_." Wes looked so indignant Eric almost laughed.

"Suits me." He nodded at the letter he had left that morning, lying on a corner of the desk. "I'd like to get that back."

Wes picked it up. "What is it?"

"My resignation."

"Your resignation?" He stared for a moment, looking astonished. "Why would you resign? I thought you like this job."

"I do like it."

"It's me, isn't it? You thought you were going to have to work for me. Do you hate me that much?"

Embarrassed and uncomfortable, Eric shook his head, eyes on the floor. "I don't hate you at all. But I figured you'd want me gone. Thought I'd save you the trouble."

"You really thought I'd fire you?" Wes stood up and circled the desk to face him. "No, I wouldn't have. You're doing a good job here. I want you to stay."

"But you don't like me."

"That's not true. I like you, Eric. Always have."

"In spite of everything?"

"Yeah…"

Their eyes met again, and held, longer than friendship could account for. Wes licked his lips and blinked, but he didn't look away. Eric moved a step closer, almost reached out, almost touched him, thought he saw something in Wes's face... But in the end he couldn't do it, couldn't take the risk of destroying the new relationship they seemed to have just established. Cursing himself for a coward, but determined not to make another mistake, he dropped his hands behind his back.

"I'd better go. Got work to do." In moments he was walking the corridors again, headed for his office. And wondering; had he given himself away? What he felt, what he wanted, it must have showed. Why hadn't Wes moved back, said something, gone behind the desk? Why had he only watched, and waited?

* * *

"Okay, Collins. Time's up!" The voice broke the silence that had fallen between them, shaking Eric back from a haze of memory and conflicting emotion. He looked up in the direction of the door, and then at Wes. 

"Well, looks like it's show time," Wes said softly, before getting up, turning on his flashlight, and heading for the door. He paused when he reached it. "Ready?" he asked softly.

"Ready." Eric had stretched out on his stomach, face toward the door, among the boxes, wanting to force the thieves to take a few moments moving them in order to reach him. They would need all the time they could get. He lay unmoving, listening as Wes shouted again.

"Okay! I'm opening the door! Don't shoot!"

"Unlock it, and stand back!" Joe's voice came.

He heard Wes grunt softly as he struggled with the bolt. Probably warped by the heat, Eric thought, hoping it would open. Apparently it did, he heard the sound of metal sliding over metal, and then a thunk. Cautiously slitting an eye open in the suddenly bright light, he saw four men with blast rifles pull the door open. Three of them stepped inside, the other one stood in the doorway. Another two were visible behind him.

Not only that, with a sinking feeling he recognized the protective clothing they were wearing, another item Bio-Lab had developed and then stored away, as being too bulky and restrictive for the Guardians to use regularly. They were like large, bulky bullet-proof vests, but giving some protection from blaster fire. With them, they could take a couple of stun-level shots without passing out, if they weren't hit in the head, and he wasn't willing at this point to use a possibly fatal setting.

One of the men, looking perhaps mid-thirties from what little Eric could see, tall and with sandy brown hair, spoke in the voice of the man who had called himself Joe. "Stand back," he said to Wes, his voice brisk. "Hands up. Don't move. Where's Myers?"

"Over there." Wes jerked his head. "What's left of him."

Eric closed his eyes again as two of them approached, silhouetted against the light shining in through the door. He heard one of them come closer, shoving boxes away. The other was apparently standing back, undoubtedly keeping him covered. He approved their methods, and their discipline, but wished they weren't quite so professional, under the circumstances. Then he needed his own discipline not to jump, as something small and hard poked him painfully in the side. A rifle barrel, he was sure.

"He's not moving," a voice said above him.

"Make sure," Joe's voice came. "Shoot him."

"No!" Wes shouted.

Eric was already moving. He rolled to his back, pushed up with one foot, and kicked the rifle the man over him was holding, knocking it aside long enough for him to lunge upwards. Grabbing the weapon, he pulled, rolled backwards, and flipped the man over his head with a foot in the gut.

The other man near him had hesitated, perhaps not wanting to hit his companion. Eric swung the rifle he still held and batted the weapon out of his hands. Both of his immediate opponents were disarmed. Wes was struggling with Joe and another man, a glance told him. The others were starting to come through the doorway. He took just an instant to shout, "Steve!" into his headset before raising his morpher.

"Quantum Power!" The light and energy transformed him, as always surging into him with a sensation of strength and invincibility. But he could feel that it wouldn't last long, his morpher was operating on a partial charge.

With a smooth, quick motion, he pulled out the Quantum Defender and then hesitated, faced with the same problem as the thieves. He couldn't fire at Joe and the other man without taking the chance of hitting Wes. Instead he shot at the men coming through the doorway, watching them duck back as he aimed. They fell back and started shooting at him around the edge of the doorframe. Eric spun back and took cover himself, behind a box.

As the small room erupted in the sizzle of blaster beams, Eric saw Wes kick Joe away, knock his other opponent down with a punch and dive behind a carton. He breathed a sigh of relief as a burst of light left his partner in his Ranger suit, at least partially protected, for the moment. And then Wes was adding his blaster fire to the general chaos.

There was movement, Joe and his friend darting through the doorway, the thieves intensifying their barrage as the two men Eric had fought ran for it. He got one of them, bringing him down, but the others pulled him out. Then both he and Wes were charging for the door, but the red Ranger, being closer, got there first.

"Wes, watch out!" Eric shouted. Wes slammed into the door as the group of men started to swing it shut, and stayed there, braced between door and frame, starting to push it back open as he continued to shoot with his free arm.

But he was in a bad position, exposed but unable to see or aim around the door, and blocking Eric from firing past him. Then he was struck directly by a beam, and another, starting to sag as Eric grabbed at his arm. A blast went over his head, striking Eric, staggering him. An abrupt flash of light shimmered over Wes, leaving him demorphed, a scream of pain ripping out of him as the heavy metal door crushed him between it and the frame.

One more blast would kill him. Frantic, Eric kicked the door as hard as he could, grabbed Wes's arm again and yanked, pulling him free, then leaped forward to slide the bolt home again as the men on the other side slammed it shut.

"Are you okay?" Eric said, turning back to bend over Wes. He raised his arm and demorphed, then turned on his flashlight.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm all right."

To his relief, Wes was sitting up, hand to his head. In the pale beam of the light, he looked shaken but in one piece. He rubbed his ribs gingerly, and then slowly got up.

"I guess we blew it," Eric said. "They won't try again."

"Yeah. But Steve heard us. I got an answer, just before I morphed."

"What did he say?"

"Just an acknowledgement. No time for more."

"At least he knows we're alive, and need help."

"For now, anyway." Wes started for the other side of the room, limping slightly. Eric caught up and took his arm. "I'm okay," Wes said impatiently, but allowed Eric to help him.

"Steve's careful," Eric said as they settled onto the floor again. "The Guardians must have the building surrounded, he's probably been talking to Joe, trying to get them to give up. Now he'll start moving in, getting in position to attack."

"Soon, he'll make his move. And we have to be ready to back him up. How's your morpher?"

"Not great, but usable for a few minutes at least. Yours is drained again."

"Yeah." He heard Wes sigh. "So we're back to waiting…"

* * *

TBC... 


	5. The Fire

Wes and Eric belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Any others you don't recognize are mine. 

Sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence. 

This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this. 

Reviews are always appreciated. 

Red Fire

* * *

The Fire

* * *

Back to waiting. At least they had gotten a little fresh air into the room during their fight. Wes smiled a little at the thought and leaned against the wall, touching his ribs again. They hurt, every breath sending a fresh stab of pain, but he didn't want to say anything. It was easing up a little, anyway, now that he was sitting quietly. No point in telling Eric, nothing he could do about it. When the time came, they'd both have to fight, anyway. He tried in vain to find a more comfortable position, the room, the darkness, suddenly seeming more oppressive. 

"God, I'm really starting to hate this room," he said softly. 

"Hang in there." Eric's voice came again after a few moments. "You sure you're okay?" 

"I'm fine." 

"Thought that was my line. Next thing, you'll be saying you don't need my help." 

"Hah." Wes laughed for a breath, and regretted it when his ribs protested. It was quiet again, reaction was setting in, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded despite the ache in his side. He closed his eyes. "It's so dark," he said. "Sitting here, in trouble, waiting for our morphers to recharge... It's like the clock tower..." His eyes snapped open as he realized what he had said. 

"The clock tower. You mean that night." 

"Yeah," Wes said after a pause. 

"But I guess the same thing won't happen again." 

"Eric…" Wes's voice sharpened. "Cut it out." 

"Why? Because we're not supposed to talk about it?" 

"That's right. Unless promises don't mean anything to you." 

"Sometimes I think that promise should never have been made." Eric's voice was low, and harsh. Wes could hear him shift his position against the wall nearby. "I'm tired of it, Wes. I'm tired of pretending it never happened. Tired of watching you lie to yourself. It _did_ happen, and you should face up to what it means." 

"I'm not gay, if that's what you're getting at! Just because you didn't get what you wanted, don't try to convince me I'm something I'm not!" 

"This isn't about me, or what I want. Believe it or not, I'd like you to be happy. But I see you wasting your life, dreaming about a woman you know you'll never see again. If you're straight, fine. I have no problem with that, I hope you get married and have fifty kids, and I'll never say another word about it. But I think you're not straight, and I think you're so determined not to admit it that you'll wait until half of your life is gone-" 

"God damn it to hell, I still love Jen, can't you accept that? I'm just not interested in anyone else. And I'm certainly not interested in _you_!" 

Silence, after that, as Wes heard Eric change positions restlessly again. It stretched for a few seconds, until he spoke again. "Just tell me why, then, Wes. Why did you do it? Why didn't you say no, or punch me, or whatever a straight guy would probably do?" 

"I don't _know_ why. It just… just happened…" Wes closed his eyes, the dark bringing the images back, the ones from his dreams, the empty space, ceiling high above them, dim light shining through a giant clock face, falling over them…

* * *

It had been during their final battle, or the first part of it. After Wes had tricked Jen, Trip, Lucas, and Katie into the timeship Alex had sent for them, and programmed the autopilot to take them home, to safety, or so he thought. He knew it was foolish, that he and Eric had little chance to defeat Ransik's killer robot by themselves, but he couldn't bear the thought of Jen and the others dying here, not even in their own time. And he remembered what Alex had said about him. He wouldn't make it. If he had to die, at least his friends would live. 

There was no time for tears as he watched the ship take off, still hearing Jen's voice coming from his morpher, begging to stay and fight at his side. No time, when Eric was facing their enemies alone. He ran back to his motorcycle, and sped to the city, finding it had become a battleground. 

Eric had been demorphed and injured when Wes found him and rescued him from a band of cyclobots. They had limped off together, found a place to rest for a few moments, and to talk. It was the first time Eric had really talked to him, about himself, about growing up poor and alone, about knowing there had never been anyone to care for him. About his envy and resentment of the easy and comfortable life Wes had been born into. But Wes had talked too, and maybe even convinced him that in a deeper sense, they had something in common, that they were bound together by something stronger than affection, purer than blood, by the shared responsibility of their power. That moment had been the real beginning of their new friendship. The friendship that came so close to ending disastrously only hours later. 

The clock tower had seemed like the safest place to go. They could hide there, and Wes's teammates had left some medical equipment that would repair the worst of Eric's injuries. It seemed like a long trip, limping through streets scattered with wreckage, trying not to be seen by cyclobots. They made it just as the sun was setting. 

A long and painful climb upstairs, Eric pale and sweating by the time they reached the top; the clock tower Wes had spent such happy times in, now dark and feeling terribly empty. Half an hour to use the medical equipment and bandage Eric up. And then they tried to relax, to get some rest while their morphers had time to recharge, before the inevitable final confrontation. 

Wes made his way to the couch and sat, slumped in exhaustion and dejection. Eric joined him, looking in just as bad shape. They were silent for a few minutes. 

"We could use your friends about now," Eric said. "Can't believe they ran out on you." 

"They didn't," Wes replied, too dispirited to be angry. "I tricked them into going. To save them." 

"_What?_ Wes, we need them. I don't know if we can do this on our own." 

"I thought you never need anyone's help." 

A smile appeared briefly on Eric's face. "Maybe you've convinced me I'm wrong." 

"They had to go back. According to history..." He trailed off. 

"What?" 

"Alex told us we'd all die in this fight," he said softly. "I couldn't let it happen. Not to Jen... They don't even belong in this time. They shouldn't die here." 

He saw Eric stare at him, a long look, tinged with shock and concern and perhaps something that seemed darker and deeper. "Alex said you were going to die?" he finally asked. 

"Yes." He glanced up. "He didn't say anything about you. Maybe you'll be okay. I hope so." 

"I'm not going to just stand back and let you die. So if you go, I'm probably going too." 

Startled, Wes looked into Eric's face, seeing something there that froze whatever reply he had been about to make. An intensity, something burning behind those eyes... 

"Wes..." He hesitated so long Wes thought he wasn't going to continue. "We may not survive this night. We may never see each other alive again. I need to tell you..." 

_Don't, don't say it..._ Wes knew he should do something, knew he should stop it. But what he said was only, "Go on." 

Eric pulled his eyes away and stared down into his clenched hands. "You probably know already. Must have suspected it, ever since school." 

"What?" Wes whispered, throat suddenly dry. 

"That I'm gay." He glanced up for only a split-second, then down again. 

"Eric, I -- it doesn't matter to me." 

"It should. I had a crush on you back then. A big one. That time, in the study room, you probably wondered if I was going to try to kiss you. I was." 

Wes stared down at his own hands, feeling his face start to flush. "I remember," he managed to say. 

"After that, I was embarrassed to face you. Thought you probably hated me. So I got angry. Tried to hate you back." 

"That's not why you left, is it?" Wes asked, alarmed. 

"No. My scholarship was discontinued. No money, no choice. I dropped out, got a shitty job for a few months to earn enough to live on, got my GED and enlisted as soon as I turned eighteen." 

"I'm sorry, Eric. I wish I could have helped." 

Another quick glance, as if to acknowledge that statement. "Ten years in the service. When I got out, I took the job with the Silver Guardians. It was a great opportunity. I knew you'd probably be in town, I'd probably see you since I'd be working for your father. But I didn't figure we'd come into much contact. Never thought I'd still have feelings for you. But I was wrong. Ever since that first day I saw you, with your friends... Tried to hide it, cover it up, by being a total shithead. Swore you'd never know." 

Eric was looking at him now, but Wes avoided his eyes. "Then you surprised me. You were nice, you tried to make friends again. And you were a great Ranger. A good fighter. Brave. Smart. Willing to risk your life to help other people. Even me. I started to respect you. And..." 

Another long hesitation, as Eric seemed to struggle with himself. "It's stupid, I know. But I love you." 

There was a pause as Wes tried in vain to decide how to respond, tried just to figure out how he felt about it. Tried to understand why some inner part of him seemed almost happy... when he should be shocked, even angry. 

Eric's voice came again, very softly. "I guess there were times you suspected it. Sometimes I even thought... maybe you felt something too..." 

Wes shook his head quickly. "No. I couldn't. I love Jen." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Of course I'm sure." Eric was staring, but Wes stubbornly refused to look at him. 

"All right. Fair enough." 

"I'm sorry, Eric. I wish..." He looked up this time, meeting Eric's eyes and unable to look away, his words running out as the thought came, uninvited, of what it would feel like to touch him, to hold him, to take what he was so clearly offering. Just the fear and desperation of a man facing death, he told himself, just a need for contact and comfort. All perfectly understandable. 

But Eric seemed to have seen it. He leaned closer. "Wes, this might be the last chance. Please..." He reached a hesitant hand to brush back Wes's hair as he flinched nervously, and whispered, "Just let me touch you... once..." 

His hand moved to Wes's face, fingertips lightly stroking his cheek, then his palm making contact, caressing very gently, with no pressure, but somehow Wes was pulled forward, closer, unable to stop what he knew was about to happen. Slowly their faces came together, Wes closing his eyes as Eric's lips touched his, softly, delicately, breath warm on his face as he sighed. They stayed like that for a few heartbeats, as Wes found himself raising his arms, running his hands over Eric's upper arms and shoulders, pulling him closer, kissing him back. 

And then the gentleness was gone, the mouth on his opening, the tongue flicking out to lick between Wes's lips, then thrusting in. He felt a surge of heat and overwhelming desire, his body's reactions washing away any attempt to stop. He heard a soft groan as he pulled Eric's tongue in farther, as he tightened his arms, feeling the muscles of shoulders and back under his fingers, the sensation of strong arms around him, eager hands running over his body, under his shirt, over his chest. 

Wes seemed to float in a mindless haze of fiery excitement as he explored Eric's body in return. He moaned as fingers moved lower to stroke him, closed his eyes as they undid his pants and reached inside, gasped at the sensations that followed. He sighed as Eric knelt on the floor between his knees, the intensity increasing as a mouth replaced the hands. It went on, building to the inevitable conclusion, until finally he shuddered and cried out as feelings sweeter and sharper than anything he'd experienced before flooded through him. And then, when Eric's face raised up to his, eyes glazed with passion, Wes kissed him, reached down between them, and gave back that pleasure with his own hands. 

But afterwards, when reality returned, there had been only shame as he pushed Eric away and pulled his clothing back into place, trying not to see the bitter hurt and disappointment he glimpsed in the other man's face. 

"It never happened," he had whispered, turning away, curling up on the couch. "It never happened."

* * *

"We made love, Wes. Face it. Deal with it." 

"We... I don't know what that was. It wasn't love." 

"Call it whatever you like. But it happened." 

"We thought we were about to die. It was just -- sex. You wanted to, and I -- I let you..." 

Eric snorted. "Not many straight guys would be that generous. I got the impression you liked it. And as I recall, you were an active participant." 

"It didn't mean anything! I loved Jen. I still do." 

"But you never had sex with her. And you did with me." 

"I've slept with women, and I liked it!" Wes said resentfully. "One time doesn't make me gay!" 

"No, it doesn't. But we weren't just kids experimenting. And it's more than just that night. It's Jen. And other things." As Wes looked away, unable to answer, Eric's voice softened. "What's important isn't so much who you've had sex with, it's who you thought about when you were doing it... Who you see in your dreams, who you fall in love with, who you want to be with every night." He paused. "Whose face do _you_ see, Wes?" 

Wes blinked and swallowed, the dark images from his dreams flickering through his mind. Images of black hair and Asian eyes... He shut it out and retorted, "Don't flatter yourself." 

Eric's voice sparked with impatience. "I didn't mean me personally." He sighed, and went on more calmly. "Look, maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just imagining things, maybe I want the whole world to be gay, just because I am. But -- think about it. Don't end up forty years old, hiding who you are, married to some poor woman you've been lying to for years." 

"Damn it! Stop doing this, trying to turn me into the same thing _you_ are..." Wes turned away, wrapping his arms around himself. "Just leave me alone," he muttered miserably. 

"All right." There was a pause. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you or anything." 

"Then just shut up. I don't need _you_ to tell me who I am, or what I am. You promised, remember?" 

There was a slight sigh. "Yeah. I promised." 

"And now you said it anyway... Damn it, I trusted you..." Wes curled up, leaning his head against the wall. He tried to blank his mind, tried not to think of Eric sitting behind him, probably trying to see him in the dimness, the expression probably on his face. Tried not to think about what he had said. Most of all, he firmly shut out the memory of what they had done, that dark night in the clock tower. Tried not to remember what it had felt like, denied that he had ever wanted to feel that way again. 

As he hunched over his knees a sudden stab of pain bit into him, so bad that he gasped and groaned aloud, clutching his ribs. A wave of dizziness and nausea broke over him. 

"Wes, what's wrong?" The rough voice behind him held only concern now, as Wes felt hands grasp his shoulders. In another moment Eric was shining a flashlight beam in his face. 

"Shit, you're hurt... Why didn't you say something?" 

"Just stubborn, I guess..." 

"Dammit, I shouldn't have gotten you upset... Wes..." 

He gasped again and held back a cry as Eric gently helped him lie down, and leaned over him, face pinched with anxiety in the reflected light. 

"Hang on," he said. "Steve and the guys'll be here soon. We'll get you to the hospital, you'll be fine." 

"Sure, I'll be fine..." Wes responded, knowing it wasn't true, as another surge of dizziness and pain dimmed out even the light shining in his face, and the sound of Eric's voice calling his name.

* * *

TBC... 


	6. The Promise

Wes and Eric belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Any others you don't recognize are mine.

Sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence.

This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this.

Reviews are always appreciated.

**Red Fire**

* * *

The Promise

* * *

"Wes…" Eric called again, and saw his friend blink up at him in the flashlight beam. Carefully he unbuttoned Wes's jacket and examined him as well as he could. No obvious bleeding. Internal injuries, then. "Where does it hurt?" he asked. 

"My ribs…" Wes touched his side.

"Probably broken. Just lie quiet. You'll be okay."

"It hurts."

"I know. Try to relax."

Eric took his hand, briefly wondering if the touch would be comforting or offensive. But Wes smiled faintly and squeezed his fingers. Eric smiled back, not saying what he was thinking, that judging by Wes's paleness he was bleeding internally. He needed medical attention, and fast.

Soon they were in the dark again, the flashlight off to save the battery. It was silent, except for Wes's labored breathing. But as long as he was breathing, he was alive. Eric strained his eyes, seeing only a dim form lying on the floor. Less light here than in the clock tower, that night. Shouldn't have brought it up, shouldn't have argued about it. He had promised…

* * *

He had been happy, even knowing they were likely to die soon, the happiness of finally touching Wes, kissing him, making love with him, feeling desired by him for a few minutes. He had felt as if his heart would crack with it… and then the fall back to earth, pushed away as if he was dirty and disgusting, as if he had made Wes dirty too. 

They had been silent for a while afterwards. Wes had gotten up without looking at him, had found a stack of pictures of his friends and teammates and stood staring at them, as if reminding himself of Jen. He had looked so miserably unhappy that compassion had overcome Eric's own pain. He told himself how difficult this must be for a man who had apparently always considered himself straight, who was now forced to confront the fact that he might not be.

Mostly for something to say, he asked, "Your friends. How do you know they're okay?"

"I don't."

There wasn't even enough time for him to feel relief that Wes was still speaking to him. That was when the cyclobots attacked, dozens, maybe hundreds of them, flooding the old clock tower. The two of them fought, side by side, almost overwhelmed by sheer numbers, but Wes came up with a plan. He set one of the weapons his friends had left to explode, while he and Eric barely escaped with their lives, crashing out through the glass of the clock face as the tower exploded behind them.

After that they returned to Bio-Lab, found that Mr. Collins was missing, and set out to search for him. Walking the streets of a city demolished by Ransik's attack, littered with rubble, fires, wrecked cars, ruined buildings, lost lives… their own personal problems had receded into insignificance.

They had found Wes's father, saved him from a band of cyclobots, had a brief father-son reunion. And then, Eric had seen one of the fallen robots stir, aim its blaster at Wes and Mr. Collins. He had acted without thinking, jumped between them and it, taken the blast even as he shot back, felt energy burn through him in a torrent of pain.

The only really clear thing he remembered after that was lying on the ground, Mr. Collins supporting his head, looking up at Wes's face, and realizing he was going on to fight Ransik, Frax, and their robots alone, knowing he was almost certainly going to his death just as Alex had predicted. Eric tried, tried to get up and go with him, but for once his body failed him; he was too weak.

So he had done the only thing left for him to do, given up the only thing left for him to give. His morpher. He could remember that clearly, too, bringing it to his face, the sense of loss as he gave the command to deactivate its lock on his voice, as the telepathic bond he shared with it was broken. All worth it, to see the expression on Wes's face as he took it, and to clasp hands with him as friends and comrades.

He had had plenty of time to think after that, after he knew Wes had survived and that Ransik and Frax were defeated. Days of lying in a hospital bed, staring at a blank white ceiling, wondering if his future would be just as empty. To his surprise, the other Rangers had returned the morpher - just when he had realized that the power it gave was not the answer he was looking for. No, power hadn't made him happy, not the way those few minutes in the clock tower had. But that would never happen again. He had told Wes the truth, been crushingly rejected, and probably turned the fragile friendship they had begun into hatred. In a way he was glad he didn't have enough strength to feel the full impact of despair.

Still - Wes had come to see him, along with the other Rangers, who had returned at the last minute and helped win the fight. It had been a strange visit, both of them smiling and making all the appropriate noises of concern, but with an almost visible wall between them. He had been glad when it was over, but the small gesture of friendship had cheered him.

And then, the beach. The final goodbyes with the Rangers from the future. They had all lined up to shake his hand and smile, and thank him for his help. Feeling somewhat overcome, he had stood next to Mr. Collins with a troop of Guardians and watched them walk with Wes toward their timeship. There were hugs, and tears. And the moment when he wanted to turn his eyes away, feeling a sharp stab of jealousy but also a reluctant sympathy, when Wes and Jen hugged tightly before she turned, crying, and ran to her ship.

Collins left his side to go to his son, after the ship vanished into the black and violet whirlpool of the timehole that took them home. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"What now, son?"

"I don't know."

"I have a business proposition for you."

"Dad, come on!"

"Now, hear me out." They started back towards Eric, Collins' arm around Wes's shoulders. "I'm making some changes in the Guardians. We'll protect the entire city. For free. And I need a good leader." They stopped. "How about it?"

Eric had been expecting this and thought he had been prepared, but it was a struggle not to reveal what he was feeling as Wes looked at his father and then at him. But then - he couldn't help his astonishment from showing when Wes smiled at his father and announced, "I'll do it!" then even more as he continued, "But - I want Eric to be my partner."

Not trusting himself to speak, and not at all sure he understood, Eric took Wes's hand when he offered it and returned his smile. Collins dropped a proud arm around both of their shoulders. Wes held up the badge Jen had given him before she left and said something about the future looking bright. It was over - but only on the surface, Eric knew.

They were all heading back to the highway, the squad of Guardians marching ahead, when Wes stopped and turned back. "I need to talk to you," he said to Eric. "Would you excuse us a minute, Dad?"

Collins glanced at his face and then at Eric. "Of course. I'll wait in the car."

They faced each other as the older man walked away, faces grim now, a thin ocean breeze chilling Eric as they just stared for a few moments. "Did you know about this?" Wes finally asked.

"Yes. Your father told me he wanted to put you in charge. He wants to give you a good job. Seems natural."

"What about you?"

Eric shrugged. "He said I'd keep my rank and salary, under your command. But that's really up to you, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"I'd like to stay with the Guardians. When you take charge, it'll be your choice whether to let me stay on." He raised his chin, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt.

"Eric, I have no intention of taking over from you. If you want, I can still turn it down. But I'd like to do it. I was thinking more of being equal partners, if you're willing."

"If I'm..." Eric paused for a moment to get his voice under control. "Yeah, that sounds -- pretty good."

"But there's a condition to us working together." Wes held his eyes, his gaze intense. "We both forget about what happened in the clock tower. Never mention it again. Never."

Eric stared back, feeling another little part of his heart turn bitter with those words, another tiny shred of hope lost. But he answered steadily enough, "If that's what you want."

"That's the way it has to be. Promise."

"Okay," Eric said very softly. "It'll be like it never happened. I promise."

"Good."

Eric spent only a moment on wishing that they could be partners in another sense, and then put that thought away forever, resolved to be grateful for what he had. His job, now shared with someone he knew he could work with. His morpher. A bright future, as Wes had said.

It had worked well, for the most part. There had been moments of discomfort, little things mostly, Wes at first avoiding being alone with him, always keeping himself covered in the locker room, flinching at a casual touch. But it had gotten easier. They had almost managed to put it behind them, to actually forget it, and Eric had almost been able to convince himself that Wes was no more than a friend and partner to him. Until tonight.

* * *

A noise from outside caught his attention, the memories shattering and falling away as he looked up at the door. The distinctive sound of blaster shots. Several of them, then more, coming fast, getting closer. 

"What's that?" Wes gasped. "I hear something."

"I'll check it out."

Eric got up and went to the door, listening. No doubt about it. It had to be Steve and the Silver Guardians, come to the rescue. The problem was, who was going to save _them_? They had no defense against blast rifles. Someone would certainly be killed. Unless he did something. He hesitated, looking back at Wes, then went to him and knelt.

"Stay here, and don't move."

"Where are you going?"

"Steve and the guys are moving in. I have to go out and help."

"No! You won't be able to stay morphed more than a few minutes, not if you get hit."

"Gotta do it, Wes. No choice." He glanced up at the door as the sounds grew louder.

"Eric, no, you'll be killed…" Wes strained to sit up, cried out, and sank back, face contorted in pain.

"Wes! God… Just lie there, will you? You'll only hurt yourself."

"Don't do it!" Wes reached up to grab his hand again.

"You'd do the same thing."

"No…" Wes had closed his eyes, breathing in painful gasps that sent a chill of fear though Eric.

He pulled free as gently as he could, and then bent down, trying to see that pale face in the dim light, brushing blond hair with his fingertips. Wes seemed almost unaware, his eyes still closed. Eric paused, and lightly touched his arm.

And then he was on his feet, back at the door, wrestling with the bolt before he managed to slide it back. A thought struck him, and he quickly crossed the room to pick up a blast rifle one of their captors had dropped during the previous struggle. If he didn't have to use the Defender, he'd have a little more time.

He raised his morpher and called out, "Quantum Power!" hardly noticing the surge of power and energy that swept through him. A glance back, Ranger-enhanced senses letting him see clearly. Wes's strained face was turned towards him, eyes open now but unfocused. Eric turned away, not letting himself think it might be his last look.

_Now or never._ With a heave, he shoved the door open, and charged out into a raging firefight. There seemed to be blasters all around him as he dived for the floor, rolled, and tried to find cover. The edges of an energy beam caught him, causing no more than a painful tingle, as he slid behind a support column and glanced around.

He was in the middle of it, behind four of the thieves, but two of them were behind him, aiming at him from the cover of a large piece of machinery. He moved, putting the column between himself and them, and began picking off the ones in front, their backs to him until they caught on and turned around. But it was too late, he had already stunned two of them.

Several of the Guardians took advantage of the distraction to move forward. The barrage of blaster fire intensified as Eric tried to hit the two behind him, succeeding in stunning one. He heard a cry and looked around to see a Guardian and another of the thieves down. It was only a moment's inattention, but a shot caught him from behind.

His morpher was already almost drained; it gave up with a flashing sparkle as he demorphed. Groaning, he fell to lie flat, hoping the column he was still behind would protect him long enough to let him recover. Navy blue uniforms ran past, his men, pursuing the last of their opponents, then one of them stopping to bend over him.

"Eric! Are you okay?"

"Steve…" Eric said, managing to roll onto his back. "Yeah, I'm fine. Keep going."

The action moved away, blaster shots fading as the last of the thieves were chased down. There was no one in the immediate area. In the sudden peace, Eric pushed himself up to his knees, waited for his head to stop spinning, and climbed to his feet. Unsteadily he made his way back to the darkened room that had been their prison for the last hours. He walked in, waited for his eyes to adjust. And froze.

It was Joe, the edges of his tall form outlined by light coming through the doorway. He was standing over Wes, pointing a blast rifle directly at his head, but looking at Eric. "Looks like I have my hostage, after all," he said softly.

"What do you want?" Eric asked, firmly pulling in his fear and anger.

"You know what I want. Safe passage out of here."

"I don't know if I can arrange that."

"Try." Suddenly and viciously, he kicked Wes in the belly, hard. The injured man cried out and doubled up around himself, groaning.

"Stop it!" Eric shouted. Then more quietly, "All right, I'll try. Don't hurt him."

"Take off your morpher. And the blaster."

"Okay." Slowly, Eric unstrapped his morpher, held it out, and dropped it, thankful that Joe didn't know enough to force him to release the voice lock and take it. Then, he carefully pulled his Guardian blaster out of its holster and dropped it too.

Joe stepped back. "Pick him up."

Eric stayed where he was. "No. He's got internal injuries. Moving him might kill him."

The thief shot him an angry look, and stepped closer to Wes again. "Just do it!" he snarled.

Eric spoke quickly, his voice level. "Touch him again and either I'll kill you or you'll have to kill me. Then you'll have nothing. I can walk, use me as a hostage instead."

Joe glanced down at Wes, who now appeared to be unconscious, and then back up. "All right, I guess you'll do. Just walk out, slow and steady. Remember, I'm right behind you. One fast move and you're dead."

Raising his hands, Eric started out. They went through the doorway. There was still no one in sight. "Head for the side door," the voice behind him said. Eric turned in that direction, trying to watch his captor out of the corner of his eye, and took a few steps, as slowly as he dared. Joe's footsteps came closer. Eric felt a sharp jab in his back, the rifle barrel poking him, as the taller man said impatiently, "Hurry up!"

"You bet," Eric muttered under his breath, even as he pretended to stumble, dived for the floor, landed on his hands and kicked up and back with both feet, one driving the rifle up, the other catching Joe in the chest. In an instant he was back on his feet, then in a spin kick that knocked the weapon flying.

Eric moved in, a quick side kick to Joe's hip keeping him off-balance, then a hard punch to the face, crude but satisfying. Finally, a deliberately aimed kick in the crotch, producing a scream of agony and leaving his opponent clutching himself and groaning on the dusty floor, partial revenge for Wes, and it was over.

"I don't need a morpher or a blaster to take care of a scumbag like you," Eric growled, as a couple of Guardians came into sight. "Arrest him," he called to them, starting back to Wes. "Call for an ambulance and send the EMT's in here as soon as they show up!"

* * *

For a moment he feared the worst, finding his partner lying so still and pale, but he was still breathing in that harsh, rasping way, and his face was tight with pain. Eric sank to his knees, reached out, stroked Wes's hair, touched his cheek, held his hand, called his name. 

"Hold on, Wes, it won't be long," he said.

No response, no sign of consciousness. The memories he had relived in the last hours played in Eric's mind again, the times in school, their friendship and its ending, their hostility and how that ended too. All the battles they had shared, side by side, back to back, teammates, partners, friends. The few brief moments when they had become lovers.

How much time had it been? More than twelve years, almost half his life, since that first meeting. So many changes since the day at school when Wes had smiled at him for the first time, and held out his hand in friendship. So many mistakes… And now it might all be over, with no more second chances, Wes's life cut short, all his hopes and dreams gone forever.

As he heard voices, the EMT's coming at last, Eric bent to kiss Wes, just a light touch with his lips, just for a fleeting moment. "Forgive me, Wes," he whispered. "I love you."

* * *

TBC... 


	7. The Reality

Wes and Eric belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Any others you don't recognize are mine.

Rated R : Strong and descriptive but not explicit sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence.

This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this.

And don't forget to review, I love feedback.

**Red Fire**

* * *

The Reality

* * *

"You never believed me. And now look at you." 

Wes stared up at the clock face looming over him, pale light gleaming through, washing over them in a silvery river. He was lying on the couch, back in the old clock tower. Eric sat in a chair next to him, his face, like the room, visible with surreal clarity despite the dimness, his expression disapproving. It was silent, no sound, no motion except for the clouds of tiny dust motes dancing in beams of light.

"What didn't I believe?"

"The truth." Eric smiled. "And don't say you don't know what I'm talking about."

"But I don't know."

Eric sighed, an exasperated sound. "You still won't face it, will you?"

"I think I know where this is going." Wes turned, and sat up to look in his eyes.

"I certainly hope so. Look, what's the point of making _me_ say it? You already know."

"You think I never loved Jen."

"No, _you_ finally realize you didn't."

"I admired her. Believed in her."

"She had a lot of qualities you think you don't have."

"She would have been perfect for me."

Eric's lips curved. "Except for one thing."

Wes sighed sadly. "You're right. I loved her, but only as -- sort of an ideal."

"But you imagined it was more. Why?"

"I guess it was my way of convincing myself I was straight. Normal. If I was in love with a woman, I must be all right."

"And in that way, Jen _was_ perfect. You could tell yourself you loved her, but you never had to do anything about it." Eric crossed his arms and leaned back, smiling again.

"Yes. I knew she'd have to leave when her mission was over. And there was her engagement to Alex. No chance it could ever work out."

"Very good," Eric said softly. "Now, what's the rest of it?"

Wes stared at him, feeling obscurely disturbed. "The rest?"

"Come on, Wes, don't let me down. You know what I mean."

And he did know. The sudden impact of it was almost blinding, and yet he had known it all along. Jen had been a fantasy, but Eric was the reality. Eric, who he had thought about, worried about, tried to protect, stood up for, whose respect and friendship he had so desperately wanted. Eric was the face he saw in his dreams. It had always been Eric he loved, but he had been too stubborn to see.

"You're the rest of it," he whispered. They were both on the couch now, lying naked in each other's arms, soft light glimmering over them, his hands stroking every contour, mapping out the body pressing so close to his, then holding him tighter, arms and legs intertwining, as if they could become one.

"Yes..." Eric kissed him, and then looked into his eyes, hands seeming to trail fire over Wes's bare skin. "You've dreamed me, but always been too afraid to make it real. Can you do it now?"

"Do you still love me?"

There was only a slow smile in reply, and a soft murmur, as hot fingers drifted over his face, closing his eyes. "I can't tell you that. You're only dreaming... But it's time to wake up, Wes... Wake up..."

* * *

"Wes... Wes, wake up. Can you hear me?" 

"Uh... Dad?" Wes opened his eyes. It took a moment to focus, but he made out his father's face hovering over him, breaking into a smile.

"You had us worried for a while, son. Welcome back."

"What happened? Where am I?" But a quick look around answered the second question, even before his father spoke.

"You're in the hospital, with broken ribs and internal bleeding. You got out of surgery only a few hours ago."

"The warehouse... Those men..."

"All under arrest. They're already starting to make deals with the DA. No need to worry about them."

"The Guardians?"

"A few injuries. All of them minor, except you."

And the most important question. "Where's Eric? Is he all right?"

"He wouldn't leave until you were out of danger. Then I sent him home. He took a few blaster shots himself, he needs some rest."

Wes let his eyes sink shut again. "Then everything's okay..." he said.

"Everything's okay. Just relax. You'll be going home in a few days."

* * *

He drifted, some corner of his mind knowing it was the drugs they were giving him for pain, his mind dulled and blurred -- except for the dream -- that was clearer and sharper than life, the room inside the tower, colors dimmed in the light streaming through the clock, casting the planes of Eric's face in silver and shadow. 

"What are you going to do now?" he asked.

"I don't know," Wes answered. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, you'll have to do something. You can't go on like this. It's time to stop pretending." They were sitting on the couch again, just like that night a year ago, Eric watching him, his eyes so dark and deep Wes felt pulled into them.

"How can I tell Dad? I don't want to hurt him. Disappoint him."

"You've always had a problem with his expectations for you."

"Yes. Take over the company. Carry on the family name. That part's not likely to happen now."

"Wes, it's your life, not his. You have to do what will make you happy."

"But -- I've heard of parents disowning their kids because they're gay -- kicking them out, never speaking to them again."

Eric smiled gently. "Do you really think your father is like that? Don't you think he loves you? You, not just the image of what he wants you to be. He already accepted your decision to leave Bio-Lab, and make your own life."

"But I went back, in the end."

"Yes. On your own terms. He knows that."

"But this is different."

"True. But give him a chance. No parent who really loves their child would reject them for being gay. For something that's a part of them, something that's not even a choice, something that's not wrong by any logical standard."

"What about my friends? People at work? The Guardians?"

"Some will find out. Some will be fine with it. Some won't. It'll all work out, you'll see."

Wes paused. Smiled, and closed his eyes as Eric kissed him, just the ghost of a touch across his lips. "How do you know so much?" he whispered.

"I only know what you know, Wes."

"Did you say you still love me, in that warehouse?"

"Did I?"

They were lying in each other's arms again, naked, bodies pressed together, a tangle of love, desire, and uncertainty burning Wes to the core until he ached with it, unsure of where he left off and Eric began, yet feeling an unknown distance between them. "Do you love me?" he asked again.

"Don't you know?" Eric touched him, sending fiery currents cascading up his spine.

"Do you love me?"

Eric kissed him again, searing him, waves of heat echoing until he vibrated. "I can't tell you what you don't already know."

"Do you love me?" Wes closed his eyes, Eric's hands stroking him, touching him, fingers running over his skin leaving heat in rippling shimmers, everywhere... "Do you love me?" he murmured, as he found himself alone, pale, cool light falling over him, the old couch, the clock face, the dark and chilly silence of the tower.

Only the echo of a whisper answered. "You'll have to find that out for yourself."

* * *

It turned out to be five days in the hospital, days that seemed to crawl once the painkillers had worn off and his head cleared completely. But the time was valuable. It gave him a chance to think, to evaluate his life, and what was missing from it. It was a time to face himself, to accept his true nature, to let out what he had kept locked inside for so long. It was easier than he had feared, the process had been going on for a long time, he realized, maybe since that night in the clock tower, maybe even since those few moments in the dorm in prep school, when he had wanted Eric to kiss him. 

Eric came to see him only twice, both times when Wes's father was there. They shook hands and smiled, asked each other how they felt. Wes searched his face for some sign, wished he could somehow show how things had changed, wondered if Eric still felt the same way, if the words he thought he had heard back in that warehouse had been real, or just another dream.

Then came the day he was released, and driven home in their limousine. Back to the house, to the comfort of his own room, to lie awake in his own bed, and wait for the time when he would be strong enough to get up. Hopefully strong enough to confront Eric, to find out if they still had a chance. To start again, and this time do it right.

* * *

It was raining again as he stood outside, watching the house for a few minutes before getting up the courage to go up the walkway. He rang the bell and waited, his heart lurching almost painfully when Eric opened the door and stared out at him silently, his face showing nothing. 

"Well?" Wes asked. "Can I come in?"

Eric blinked at him for another moment, and then stood aside. "Sure." He closed the door behind them, and then turned for another look. "Shit, Wes, you're all wet," he said. "What were you doing out there?"

Wes shrugged. "Just... took me a little while... It wasn't easy, coming here."

"Come on, I'll get you a towel." He led the way to a small closet in the hallway outside the bathroom, took out a towel and tossed it over.

"Thanks."

"Why _are_ you here?" Eric turned partially away and hunched a shoulder at him. "Don't tell me. You want me to quit my job and leave town. Well, maybe I should. But I don't want to. And I don't want you to quit, either."

"Huh?" was all Wes managed to say as he stared, completely bewildered.

"I know I broke my promise. I'm sorry. It'll never happen again, I swear. Just -- don't quit, or ask me to leave."

"Oh, that. Forget it."

Now it was Eric's turn to say, "Huh?" blankly.

"That's not why I'm here."

"Then... why?"

"First of all, that was a really stupid thing to do. Running out like that, trying to get yourself killed."

Eric smiled slightly at that. "Believe me, I didn't want to die. It just seemed like the only thing to do at the moment."

"Second -- why didn't you visit me at home?"

That got another blank look. "I didn't think you'd want to see me."

Realizing he was stalling, Wes took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Look... I've been doing a lot of thinking. A lot. Realized some things." He took a step closer and tried to steady himself, searching for the right thing to say, to ask what he needed so badly to know, and failing to find it. So he just blurted it out. "Did you say you love me, back in the warehouse?"

"What?" Eric stared at him, and then looked away. "What difference does it make?"

"I want to know." Wes took another step.

"I'm not giving you any more reason to want to get rid of me."

"Just tell me. Yes or no."

"I thought you were unconscious!"

"So you did say it."

Eric began to take on the look of a cornered animal. "Are you just trying to humiliate me or something?"

Another step closer. "Where's all that honesty now? Tell me."

"Yes, dammit! What are you going to do about it?"

"Make you shut up for once in your life." And with that Wes reached up, grabbed Eric's head and kissed him, feeling him tense in surprise, finding it a little strange to kiss someone his own height, not to mention the broad shoulders his hands quickly fell to. Strange, but he could definitely get used to it.

Eric's hands reached to his body hesitantly, lightly touching the wrapping around his ribs, then moving up to curl gently and carefully around his upper back, only the tight grasp of his fingers betraying emotion. They held on to each other, hugging, fitting themselves together from head to toe as the kiss deepened.

After a time Wes pulled back far enough to look into Eric's eyes, seeing them spark and then darken with a deeper fire as he said softly, "You think you know so much. Didn't you know I'm in love with you?"

* * *

Continued in Epilogue... 


	8. The Touch

Wes and Eric belong to Disney/Saban. I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.  
Any others you don't recognize are mine.

Rated R : Strong and descriptive but not explicit sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence.

This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this.

Slightly revised and reduced version, I think more in keeping with the rest of the story. For anyone who didn't see the original announcement, see my website or email me with disclaimers if you'd like to see the NC-17 version. As before, thanks to Dagmar and Rach for various inspirations, and to Cecilia for beta'ing, and to all who read and especially those who reviewed.

Reviews are always appreciated.

**Red Fire**

* * *

The Touch

* * *

It still seemed like a dream as he stood at the window, watching the rain fall. Eric turned to look at the bed again, just to reassure himself. Wes was still there, sleeping, covered by an extra blanket, his breathing deep and even, his face peaceful. He had been asleep when Eric returned from the bathroom, obviously still weakened by his injuries. 

Leaning a shoulder against the window frame, Eric closed his eyes, remembering what had happened in that bed only minutes ago. They hadn't been able to do much because of Wes's injuries, but it had been good. Very good. The memory of the first time in the clock tower had returned for a moment, echoes of both the joy and the pain he had felt then and the bitter loneliness of the time since. But it had been only an echo, fading before the bright reality of Wes's blue eyes.

"_No regrets this time?" _

"_No. Just that we didn't do this years ago."_

So many years, so many turns in the road that had finally led them to this moment. As if it was fate. Eric smiled in amusement at himself. He didn't believe in love at first sight. Lust, maybe, but not love. And yet, that was exactly what had happened. Ever since that day when Wes had introduced himself, had been so friendly to the lonely new kid in school, there had never been anyone else. And it seemed there had never really been anyone else for Wes, either.

It might not last. There were no guarantees in life, and especially in love. There would be problems, challenges, people who would have to know and might not like it, Wes's father... But after all they'd been through, he found it impossible to believe they wouldn't work it out together. Together... an unfamiliar thought. But a good one.

Another glance out the window showed that the rain was stopping. There might even be some sun. He turned away, moved back to the bed, and sat on the edge. Reaching out, he very gently stroked Wes's cheek, and brushed his fingers through dark blond hair, not intending to wake him, but he must have been sleeping very lightly.

Wes stirred, blinked, opened his eyes, and smiled at his lover's touch.

- End -


End file.
